An Unexpected Journey
by Rexness613
Summary: It began as a rumor, of warriors on swift horses wearing blue masks covering the part of their face. They appeared to be searching but no one knew what they hunted. Then the rumors changed, twisted. Now the stories were tinted with violence. Then it stopped... for a while; if only he had known it was the calm before the storm. AU where Malcolm and Selethen meet.


**The Unsuccessful Search**

It was about that time of day. Usually he would come out onto the porch and heal whatever illnesses and injuries needed attention. _Glad I came somewhere no one wanted to go,_ Malcolm thought sourly, _definitely been calm and peaceful around here._ This last statement wasn't entirely fair since, until about a year ago, Grimsdell woods was idyllic for what he needed. At least, until Kerens' attempt to take Macindaw, which for Malcolm had been little more than exciting. Mostly because the only real consequence was Trobars injury at "Sir" John Buttles hand. Things began to look up after the Siege of Macindaw, as it was now being called. After the battle, news spread of the light show Malcolm had created as a distraction and although there was a small handful of people made more curious by the display, most of the people who saw it or heard about it through friends and neighbors were awestruck and fearful. As he had hoped the tales proportions inflated the more it was spread and now had "Malkallam", his made up sorcerous persona, single handedly summoning a dragon and nearly destroying Castle Macindaw. Grimsdell began to be avoided more than ever. Another good thing, which might have come in handy if Malcolm could have utilized it, was his agreement with Lord Orman. Although it was not necessary at the time, Macindaw's Lord made an agreement with Malcolm that should he need it, Macindaw would provide him with supplies and armed protection. Malcolm knew it was an act of gratitude for saving Orman's life and felt that he shouldn't take advantage of the Lords generosity… until the men with Blue Masks arrived. It started out as a rumor, of warriors on swift horses who wore white robes and turbans and had a blue mask covering the bottom part of their face. They appeared to be searching but no one knew who or what it was they hunted. Although Malcolm didn't believe a word of the rumor, he still kept an ear out for more news. Just in case. Now most people with scientific minds like Malcolm's would have simply dismissed the rumors off hand as being just that, rumors; but these rumors did not came from the mouths of farmers, whose boring lives lead to the exaggeration of anything out of the ordinary. Instead, they came from Malcolm's community, which was made up of people who had seen real tragedy, and such people do not fall into hysterics lightly. Then the rumored sightings changed, twisted. Now there were stories of stalkings, people being attacked, and even kidnapped. The more frequent the rumors, the more outright the violence that was in them, the more convinced Malcolm became that this wasn't the spreading of some bored farmers tale, or some fear produced apparition seen late at night, that this might be real. He'd wondered what Orman thought of it and his question was answered when Macindaw's lord came to make sure Malcolm was alright. Normally when Orman travelled he would bring several knights and servants, however, he knew Malcolm wanted to keep his community a secret and thus came alone except for his loyal secretary Xander. Malcolm remembered letting them into his little cottage and starting up a pot of tea while Orman settled into a chair at his small dining table.

"I take it everything's all right?" Orman asked with an air of concern. Malcolm nodded gently.

"So far." the healer replied reassuringly and Orman released a small relieved huff, glad Malcolm already knew of the growing situation.

"How is your investigation?" Malcolm inquired conversationally. Orman started, surprised at his friends foresight. Malcolm responded to the shock with a wane look.

"Give me _some_ credit, I don't miss very much." Malcolm's voice had reluctant chiding note tainting it and Orman gave a small abashed "ah" of understanding. Then his usual wry smile spread over his face.

"Can't believe I didn't guess it." Orman quipped and Malcolm smiled playfully.

"I can." The older healer retorted cheekily. They continued to smile for a moment, allowing a companionable silence to hang in the air, and then it was back to business.

"I'm afraid my investigation hasn't gone well." Orman continued, "Whoever is doing this is very good at showing up, wreaking havoc, and disappearing without much trace." Malcolm frowned at that, clasping his hands and gaining a thoughtful look.

"I was thinking of doing some investigations of my own." Malcolm put the suggestion forward, keeping his voice neutral and watching to see how Orman would react. The castle lord sat up a little straighter, the interest showing in his eyes, but still he maintained a wary look.

"Have your people noticed anything that would explain what's going on?" he asked, the tone in his voice suggested that he already knew the answer. Malcolm gave an apologetic shrug.

"Nothing revelatory, if that's what you mean." Malcolm's voice was wistful. He had hoped that something would turn up and was rather disappointed himself that he had nothing to tell. Orman shifted, lifting his shoulders in a shrug of acceptance, knowing it wasn't Malcolm's fault there was a lack of clues. Malcolm saw the small gesture and decided it would be best if he continued.

"It's why I was thinking of going a little more in depth. If my scouts were looking for clues they might find some answers." However, Orman simply responded by waving his hand dismissively.

"They might, but it'd be a miracle considering no one else has." Malcolm grimaced. The Lords cynical nature sometimes worried him, but then again Orman was usually right , so unsure as to how to rebut the remark Malcolm simply sat there quietly, looking for something to divert the conversation to a less ominous topic. Eventually the water finished heating, Malcolm added the herbs to the tea pot, and they found other things to talk about. Later, after his visitors returned to the castle Malcolm conducted an investigation but unfortunately had as much luck as Orman predicted he would. This was in part because in the following month the strange events ceased, and this fact caused Malcolm an equal amount of relief and worry. One part of Malcolm hoped that the culprits had moved on to bother other people. The other part of Malcolm realized they would've begun hearing rumors in other areas. His people ranged far and wide throughout Grimsdell and something should have turned up by now, and when it didn't he realized the perpetrators must still be out there, possibly preparing for something worse. His doubts proved correct. It had simply been the calm storm. _The Cracked Flagon_ was ravaged, an imposter weeded out of Macindaw, and Grimsdell itself was set on fire.

He sighed and sat back from the arrow wound he'd been tending. There was nothing else he could do for now. Usually he started tending wounds around eleven. Now it was nonstop. Most of the wounds hadn't been from the fire, not that the fire hadn't been bad, it just never ended up reaching them; but it hadn't stopped at the fire. Orman hadn't done justice to the abilities of the unknown attackers. They were masters of terror appearing out of nowhere, killing en masse, and then disappearing without a trace. As he kneeled by his next patient he couldn't help mulling over the situation again. He couldn't see the logic in it. They came from nowhere, attacked seemingly at random, never really taking anything, and he couldn't identify anyone that was a possible target.

He sighed. The people he helped mostly came out of senseless situations. He himself had come out of a senseless situation. He had been dealing with them for twenty years. The actions of the Blue Masked blew everything else out of the water.

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Selethen watched Meralon disdainfully. As much as he needed Norgate's ranger, the man wasn't easy to work with and made it fairly clear it was intentional. Selethen was pragmatic enough to know that nothing he said or did would change this. Not that it ever made dealing with such people any easier.

"They went northeast." The arrogant ranger quipped, somehow making the simple remark sound snippy. Selethen had the continual feeling that he was being baited by the arrogant ranger. He decided to continue to ignore it. He replied with an unaffected nod.

"Anything significant that direction; are there any possible headings?" Selethen added the second part in hopes it would prod a helpful answer out the rangers tight lips.

"Several." Meralon replied, and then didn't deign to continue.

_So much for helpful,_ Selethen thought dryly. Then he heard the firm beat of hooves behind him and suppressed a smile.

"My guess would be Fernway, Captain Selethen." It was Sergeant Jesmond Saxby, from Macindaw. Though Selethen had brought more than enough soldiers, Wakir Orman felt obligated to lend him several of his own, including the Sergeant. Like most Sergeants he was firm, serious, but not unfriendly. Accustomed to both receiving and giving orders he was under no delusions as to his abilities or to his station. In short, he was exactly the sort of man Selethen liked having beside him. It almost made up for having to deal with Meralon.

"Fernway?" Selethen asked, gently pressing his heels into Amir's side. Meralon had started off without warning again. Apparently he expected the others to automatically know what he was doing and bow to his whims. It was one of several reasons Selethen decided to keep watch on the ranger. Jesmond's voice brought him out of his thoughts.

"It's a marsh, sir, with ferns lining all the roads that run though it and filling all the glens inside of it." Jesmond explained actually sounding a bit chatty this time and Selethen found he could no longer suppress the small smile that had been trying to surface.

"Sounds pleasant enough." Selethen speculated mildly and Jesmond nodded.

"It is. Heard it can be annoying on horse though. The ferns and brush all tend to tangle together and this time of year it's likely to be wreathed in a fog." Selethen hummed thoughtfully. If Iqbal did choose to enter this "Fernway" the terrain could be just treacherous enough to give him the upper hand.

"Good reason to hope he doesn't go there…" Grumbled Meralon as he continued to read the signs the Tualaghi had left. Selethen glanced at him and could see that the ranger was on the same track. Selethen nodded gently and was silent for a moment as Meralon continued to stare intently at the passing trail, each caught up in his own thoughts. The soldiers behind them chatted quietly off and on but now the mood in general became somber and the oppressive air of Grimsdell wasn't helping. Oddly enough it was Meralon who finally broke the silence.

"We're getting close to Fernway." He muttered grimly. Selethen slowly straightened, and his eyes hardened. So it was to be Fernway then.

"How close?" Jesmond asked all business now that events were finally beginning to really unfold.

"80 meters. There will be a clearing first." Meralon pulled back to ride beside the others and saw Selethen's nod.

_Not long now. _Selethen hoped Saxby was wrong about Fernway being wreathed in fog this time of year; but then he felt something gentle and cool trying to envelop his legs and looked down realizing that they were riding into fog. He looked back just in time to see Jesmond making a sign of some sort, muttering to himself as he'd did so. The company marched forward uneasily, seemingly pulled forward by the fogs cold fingers. Its presence was unsettling; it didn't seem to rest on anything, to come from anywhere, it simply hung in the air like a veil. As they continued it became harder, at least for Selethen, to keep track of distance. He looked around; trying to make out some marker, anything to help but there didn't appear to be anything beyond the closest trees.

It felt like the clearing sprang from nowhere, one moment they were in a forest, the next they were on open ground. He blinked at the sudden change, so used to the continual forest of the last week that it took a moment to process the sudden void. An astonished gasp broke him from his trance. He looked up to see what had prompted it and felt his own eyes widen to take it in. Fernway marsh loomed, half hidden by the fog.


End file.
